


The Problem of Remembering

by NewLeeland



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Discussions about the past, F/M, Maybe inspired by real-world events, Political Debates, mild swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 19:50:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NewLeeland/pseuds/NewLeeland
Summary: Several years after the victory over the Empire, the New Republic leaders face the problem of remembering the past.





	The Problem of Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Kobo](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kobo/pseuds/Kobo) for betaing!

* * *

 

“This is outrageous.” The loud voice of Representative Hiron Shuler from the planet Dentaal echoed through the Council Rooms of Hanna City. It was not surprising for Chancellor Mothma, not in the least. The themes discussed today were all thorny in their own way, but people, no matter if “commoners” (Force, she hated that term), politicians, soldiers or nobles, were sometimes very willing to ignore more pressing issues and focus on symbols instead. It wasn’t wrong to be that way, after all symbols were symbols - persons and events that had a larger meaning and stood for more than they were. She just wished some of her fellow politicians in this room wouldn’t turn into cantina-shouters from the Outer Rim every time a certain subject appeared on the agenda.

Shuler was a heavy man, nearing 70, bearded and his well-nourished face was red with anger. Tiny dribbles of spit tarnished the bright red uniform all politicians from Dentaal wore with pride. But who could fault the man for being passionate about this issue? If it was an easy one, they wouldn’t be here.

“All these women and men have blood on their hand, the blood of our citizens. And you want to honor them by erecting statues of them?! What’s next? A thank-you-statue for the Emperor for ending the Clone Wars? For the Jedi who robbed generations of children from their parents? For all those oh-so-brave former Imperials who fought and died in the war?!” His last words were spat into Mothma’s direction, abhorrence further marring his face. “This is outrageous. Never will the people of Dentaal accept this. Not for a second.”

“We are not talking about Imperials, Representative Shuler,” the much calmer, but still strained voice of Akhira Musslavo of Commenor butted in. Mothma herself had never been in the thick of combat, but stories of Musslavo’s strong voice bellowing orders in trenches across the galaxy had reached her easily. It was strange seeing the tall, bronze-skinned woman in a meeting room instead on the battlefield. But wasn’t this what they all fought for?

“We are talking about men and women who were vital in fighting for our cause and restoring the Republic. Men and women who gave large their lives for the cause, so that we and future generations can enjoy the peace they brought. Their memory may be alive for now, but if nothing else, the Empire has shown how quick history can be forgotten or tainted.”

Shuler scoffed. “You can be assured, General Musslavo, that Dentaal and its citizens will never forget this war and the Empire. Your own General Madine made sure of it. Giving this genocidal bastard a monument would be spitting on the graves of all the daughters, mothers, fathers and son who perished due to the plague he unleashed.”

“General Madine was not…”  
  
“I don’t CARE if he gave the order or merely tolerated it. He is guilty and his recent death is far too soft of a punishment, even more so that he was never put on trial. We accepted this filth in our ranks, desperate for any able-bodied soldier we could get, betraying our ideals on the way.”

His face had turned even redder and he turned around, addressing once again all people present and not just his opponent.

“They may have “given” their life for this cause, but that doesn’t free them from their past crimes. You want to honor them for restoring the Republic? This is a farce! These people,” he gestured wildly at the holograms in the middle of the table, “were the gravediggers of the Republic. Every single one of them.”

Next to Mothma, Leia Organa tensed. The Chancellor was quite surprised Leia had stayed quite this long, especially considering her father was one of the men Shuler was dragging through the mud.

Other representatives made their thoughts heard and once again, angry voices shouted over each other. It was useless trying to calm them down. Composure was lost long before.

“Or do you deny the facts?” Shuler once again rose over the clamor, continuing his angry speech. “Look at the names: Erso, who built a weapon that claimed millions of lives and was killed by our own bombs. Organa, who did nothing when Palpatine came to power, serving in the Senate like an obedient lap dog…”

Now, it was enough for Leia. Her voice was colder than everything Mothma had heard before, and that was a lot. “I seem to recall that you, Representative Shuler, were quite an, how did you say it, “obedient lap dog”, yourself, weren’t you? How do your own people like the “fact”, that their spokesman was the one of the first to welcome the “new and promising project” called the Galactic Empire?”

Shuler’s overbearing posture crumbled a bit and more shouts followed. Former allegiances were a heated topic they would never find a good end to. After all, who opposed Palpatine initially and survived until now? Not many. In her eyes, Mon Mothma was one of them, just like Bail Organa. Sometimes it was wiser to appear obedient, but work against the system behind the scenes.

But how could you explain that to a man who had lost his entire family, parents, brothers, sisters, children and grandchildren to the Empire’s atrocities?

“What about Dodonna? He served in the Imperial Fleet for years before defecting. What number of crimes did he commit during the so-called pacification campaigns?” She couldn’t identify who had spoken, but it had to be a being representing some world or sector of the Western Reaches.

“And what about Rijad Siskihj?” Senator Urula Msengiya asked, for the first time participating in the discussion.

“Admiral Siskihj died heroically fighting against the Second Death Star over Endor, as did his magnificent crew”, the Senator of Siskihj’s homeworld answered, his face tentacles frilling with displeasure.

“Did he? And what did he and his “magnificent crew” do 23 years before that, when they served under that soulless butcher Grievous and murdered millions of civilians during the attack on Coruscant? Siskihj was no freedom fighter, he was a war criminal. He only joined our cause to continue his personal war against the Republic and its successor!”

“Then who deserves to be remembered of our dead? Saw Gerrera, who killed more innocent bystanders than Imperials?”

“Gerrera at least fought the Empire from Day One!”

“Yes, and before that, he was an ally of the Republic. Even the Alliance Council distanced itself from him before the war broke out. He was nothing more than a terrorist and the simple fact that he died at the hands of the Empire’s planet killer does not make him a martyr!”

“Without Gerrera, we would have never learnt about the weapon!”

It was impossible now to say who spoke.

“Didn’t he capture and torture the messenger nearly senseless? And wasn’t it an unauthorized series of missions who brought this intel?”

“Yes, too late for Alderaan.”

Shuler was at it again. “The destruction of Alderaan was a heinous crime, but Alderaan has not the monopole on being the only world where the Empire committed a genocide. We have to remember all of them, or none of them.”

The discussions raged back and forth for another twenty minutes until Mothma’s attention was caught by her datapad or to be more precise, by an incoming message.

After reading it, she softly rose from her seat and after a few minutes, the chatter stopped.

“Honored councilmembers, we are all aware how sensitive this issue is and that some wounds are still open and the scars run deep. I have a proposition that I’d love to claim as my own, but she is from someone who is as personally involved in this matter as anyone.”

With that, she began to read the message from her datapad:

 

_Chancellor,_

_the memory of my father is a touchy subject even if I have struggled to live with. For years, I did not know why we left Coruscant behind and why he went with them willingly after they killed my mother. For myself, I regained the faith that he was far from being an Imperial puppet and all he did was to ensure the dreadful weapon he was forced to create could be destroyed. I do understand that many people can’t or don’t want to believe his daughter’s words, as they were unable to know him personally. I regret that, but it does not lessen the love I feel for him. It should not be an excuse, but all of us did terrible things in the war and those who didn’t probably should ask themselves if they didn’t do enough then._

_If my father is to be remembered, let it be the following way: Tell the people the facts you know without doubt: That he was an Imperial engineer under Krennic, that he sent a messenger to Saw Gerrera and this ultimately led Rogue One to Scarif, where they recovered the plans that eventually revealed the weakness in the Death Star and made its destruction possible. Apart from that, leave it up to the people to judge if he was a hero, a villain, or neither of it._

_Although prominent, my case is just one out of billions in the galaxy where beings have to ask themselves what they should think of a family member who fought on the other side. While we are sometimes quick to judge others, it is very hard to judge family._

_I would suggest an appropriate place to learn about history would be a museum, not a public place where nobody really knows who the person was and can be easily manipulated to believe what others want them to think. If there is one thing I want, it is that my father will never be instrumentalized by any faction._

_Jyn Erso-Andor_

 

After Mothma had finished reading the letter, the room was eerily quiet. The Chancellor knew that the actions of Rogue One were not universally supported, neither then nor now. Enough people had called for an official condemnation of the mission, but all of it seemed rather petty now. The damage, no, the good was done, the war was over. Politicians only cared about the past if it was useful and the actions of the motley crew called Rogue One had long outlived their usefulness.

Surprisingly, it was Shuler who spoke first, calmer than before, and as if to signify the change, he tried to keep his voice dignified and humble. “I must admit that this suggestion made by Doctor Erso-Andor has some merit. After all, some sort of, well, combined memorial in form of a museum would also ensure that no person is left out. Not only the most prominent names, but also the countless women and men who fought in the lower ranks. We would need people with a very… unbiased point of view to phrase said texts, but a central decision regarding the treatment of our past - at least some basic guidelines - would be a wise step in the right direction.”

Consenting murmuring followed in the wake of these words and with the most vocal of the anti-leaders agreeing, the preliminary vote to create a “Commission for the Accounting of the Past” passed.

Mon Mothma had seen the council seldom cast such an united vote, but she knew this unity wouldn’t last. The topic would come up again in a few years, once councilmembers were replaced and perhaps the view of the past would change again. Every day new space ports, stadiums and buildings were constructed, new ships commissioned and the names of people would always thought to be appropriate names for these things too.

But wasn’t all life just the effort to hold back the tide as long as one could? Leaving the galaxy better than one found it should be the ultimate goal, but Mothma was not naive enough to believe everyone else in the room thought the same.

Still, they had managed to remove the Empire. If that didn’t count as leaving the galaxy a better place, she didn’t knew what would.

It was shame, really, that this unity wouldn’t last. Just like empires, unities broke apart after some time.

**Author's Note:**

> \- This oneshot was inspired by real-life events, but maybe not the ones you might have in mind right now.
> 
> \- Except Leia and Mothma, all councilmembers are OCs I created to have some different voices and more opinions. While some of the war crimes mentioned are also my own creation, the Imperial past of Dodonna and Gerrera's earlier days as pro-Republic freedom fighter aren't.
> 
> \- Nearly the entire population of the planet Dentaal was killed by the Candorian plague, a disease released by the Storm Commandos, an Imperial unit under the command of General Crix Madine. Madine immediately defected afterwards, but said himself: "I formed the storm commandos and led them in their early missions. It was those successes that put us in a position to unleash a biological weapon, the Candorian plague, on Dentaal. We were just following orders. That was the last order I took from the Empire. I defected to the Alliance, but I'll be paying my debt to Dentaal until the day I die." (Source: Imperial Handbook: A Commander's Guide) This event is back from the old EU. In new Canon, it is possible that Madine is killed in the year 5 ABY at Liberation Day. In this AU, Madine has died by now (perhaps ten years after Endor).
> 
> \- I always had the headcanon that Jyn, daughter of two scientists, is an incredible smart person. In this AU, she decided to pursue an academic career after the war ended, an oppurtunity she didn't have in the past. Cassian and her made fine, but not always easy students before settling down to have a family.


End file.
